


A Faustian Tale

by Pentone



Category: Robin (Comics)
Genre: Child Neglect, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-11-22 18:31:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11385933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pentone/pseuds/Pentone
Summary: Back when you were in a coma, I had this recurring dream about you waking up, getting up from your hospital bed and proclaiming that you could walk. The sun would be shining, you’d hug me, I’d hug you back. We’d go to a baseball game together. Play catch in the front lawn. Everything I ever wanted when I was a kid.I could only tell it was a nightmare because I’d wake up terrified.---Tim writes a letter.





	A Faustian Tale

**Author's Note:**

> For Tim Drake Week's Day 2 prompt, 'Childhood/Adulthood.'
> 
> This is a throwback to Batman #480, the one where Tim writes a letter to his dad and burns it. References various arcs: Haiti, Unmasked, Identity Crisis, War Games and Infinite Crisis. Also makes more sense if you've read Robin #132 and Batman #654.

_Hi, dad. I had this nightmare about Batman tearing my heart out of my chest and swallowing it whole today. Strange, right?_

_Would it be stranger if I told you that the first time I had that nightmare, I was thirteen years old?_

_Sorry. Rewind._

 

Alfred enters the room as Tim pushes himself upright from the bed.

“Breakfast shall be served in the dining hall in half an hour, Master Timothy,” he says as he busies himself with tying the blinds back. One hand gestures to the coffee on the nightstand. “I took the liberty of preparing you your first cup of heart palpitations. One of many, I’m sure.” Tim rubs sleep away from his eyes.

“Thanks, Alfred.”

“You're very welcome.” Alfred turns back around to smile at him, restrained but warm. “Today’s a big day, after all.”

“Yeah. It is.” Tim returns his smile. It feels wooden in his face.    

 

_So. Nightmares._

_Back when you were in a coma, I had this recurring dream about you waking up, getting up from your hospital bed and proclaiming that you could walk. The sun would be shining, you’d hug me, I’d hug you back. We’d go to a baseball game together. Play catch in the front lawn. Everything I ever wanted when I was a kid._  

 _I could only tell it was a nightmare because I’d wake up terrified._  

 _I never asked myself if that meant that, deep down, I didn’t want you to wake up, because I was too scared of the answer. And then there was no point in asking myself that question anymore, because you really did wake up._  

 _The doctors called it a miracle._    

 

In the dining hall, Bruce is seated at the head of the table in front of a traditional English breakfast. They don't eat together often, and when they do, Bruce is usually busy reading the newspaper. Today the paper is set to the side.

Alfred pulls his chair out for him before he can do it himself.

“Morning, Bruce.” He sits down.

Bruce’s gaze is steady. “Good morning, Tim.”    

 

 _Funny how near-death experiences can make people re-evaluate their priorities. You never seemed all that interested in me when I was a kid, and I’d made my peace with that, but when you woke up you wanted to turn over a new leaf. Get to know me and all that. I should have appreciated it. But when I looked at you, all I could see was another responsibility. Someone else I had to lie to._  

 _Then that ended too, because you found out about Robin all on your own._  

 _I wish we had more time._    

 

“Did you sleep well?” Bruce’s cutlery clangs quietly against the china as he cuts into his omelette.

Tim peers up from his plate. “Can’t complain. You?”

“No different to any other night.”    

 

 _I_ _used to lie to you so often that I stopped noticing how much of a weight it was. It became like breathing._  

 _You have no idea how liberating it was to wake up on a Saturday morning and know that I could tell you that my ‘internship’ was actually with the Titans. That I could tell you about my best friend, Kon, the guy I was actually hanging out with on the weekends, instead of the people I was only lying to you about hanging out with so that I had a good excuse to leave the house._  

 _Oh, and remember Steph? I didn’t meet her in comp class. We met because she was running around in a cape and cowl trying to one-up her supervillain dad. Batman and I were tracking her down. The first time we talked, she bricked me in the face._  

 _I miss her a lot. I miss Kon, too. I miss you._    

 

“I took the liberty of laying your suits out in your respective quarters,” Alfred declares, re-entering the dining hall to clear the dishes exactly five minutes after the last bit of Tim’s toast disappears down his throat.

They're expected at court at eleven am, sharp. On the way there, Bruce discusses the details of a case with him.    

 

 _Bruce once told me that there’s no point dwelling on the past because all you can do is pick things up from where you are in the present. It was ironic coming from him, but I still think he’s right. Today, though, all I can think about is everything that I could have done differently._    

 

The double doors to the courtroom squeak as they open. Dick is already inside, seated in the gallery next to their social worker. He waves to him. Tim waves back.

"All rise for the honorable Judge Manley,” the guard announces.    

 

 _Guess what, dad?_  

 _From today onwards, I’m going to legally be known as Tim Wayne._    

 

Manley sits down at the judge’s bench and adjusts her gown.

“Let the record state that we are here today to finalize the adoption of Timothy Jackson Drake, son of the late Jack and Janet Drake, may they both rest in peace.” Her voice booms over the court room. “Now, Bruce Wayne, under law I am required to ask you a series of questions, and you are required to answer under oath. Do you agree to be sworn in?”

“Yes.”

“Please approach the stand.”    

 

 _The first time Bruce offered to adopt me was over a year ago, at your funeral. You weren't even in the ground yet._  

 _I kind of made up an uncle so that I would have a next of kin and ran away to Blüdhaven. Haha._  

 _But before I was Robin, before Bruce knew that I existed, I had this fantasy. About you and mom deciding that life was better without a child weighing you down, cutting your losses, and Bruce taking me in._    

 

“Do you solemnly swear that this testimony you are about to give is the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

Bruce places one hand over a copy of the bible. “I do.”

“Do you request that the Court finalizes this adoption?”

“I do.”    

 

 _I had a really rich fantasy life when I was younger. That one was my favorite. Bruce and Dick and Alfred picking me up from school, talking with me, spending time with me. But I could never fully immerse myself in my fantasy, because I couldn’t come up with a good answer when it came to the question of why Bruce would want to adopt me._  

 _Still, that didn’t stop me. If you knew about the number of times I imagined having dinner with them whenever I had to eat alone, you'd probably get secondhand embarrassment._    

 

“Do you understand that if this adoption is finalized, you will be legally responsible for and obligated to care for and support Timothy? Which includes food, clothes, shelter and education, as well as intellectual, spiritual and moral guidance?”

“I do.”

“Do you understand that you will be called upon to provide love, care and encouragement for him, in sickness and in health?”

“I do.”  

 

 _I used to have a lot of naive ideas about the kind of person Bruce was. The kind of father he was to Dick._ _The kind of father figure he’d be to me._  

 _Over time, I learned that a lot of them weren’t true._  

 _But I wasn’t wrong when I told you that he’s a good man, dad. He is. He’s always trying as hard as he can to do what’s right._    

 

“Is there any reason for why you may not be able to fulfil these obligations?”

“No.”

“Do you have any hesitation or mental reservation about proceeding with this adoption?”

“No.”

“And is there anything the court should know, anything at all, before finalizing this adoption?”

“No, Judge Manley.”

“What about you, Timothy?

“...Timothy? Timothy Drake?”    

 

 _You know, when you and mom were being held hostage in Haiti, that fantasy occurred to me._  

 _I was so afraid that you and mom were going to die, and I couldn’t help but think that maybe your deaths were inevitable._ _It made sense. When Bruce's parents died they gave the world Batman, and when Dick's parents died they gave the world Robin. Jason was an orphan, too. Maybe, to become Robin-- to become part of what I wanted to become a part of-- I had to lose my parents as well._  

 

"Oh, sorry.” Tim clears his throat and looks up to the judge. She quirks a brow at him. “No, Judge Manley. I don’t have anything to add.”    

 

 _I_ _thought about how, in a really screwed up way, I might finally get what I always wished for, because the question of why Bruce would want to adopt me would finally be answered._  

 _I guess things have come full circle, because now I've got my wish._    

 

“In that case, the Court hereby declares that it has examined Bruce Wayne and has determined that he understands his obligations to Timothy as a parent. Let the record note that the Court, with the authority rested herein, finalizes this order for adoption.”

Dick begins clapping immediately. On the stand, Bruce smiles. Alfred makes a sniffling noise beside him.

“Congratulations, Timothy Wayne. And you too, Bruce.” There’s softness in the judge’s voice that wasn’t there before. She bangs the gavel. “You're all free to go.”

The second they’re outside the courthouse, Dick hugs him with enough force to wind a rhino. Alfred, now back to looking composed and congenially business-like, winds around to open the back door of the car.

“Not that pavement celebrations aren’t vogue,” Alfred says, tucking a loose corner of his handkerchief into his breast pocket. “But I suggest that we all reconvene at the Manor.”

“Oh, I dunno, Alf.” Dick, armed with a mischievous grin, nudges Tim in the ribs. “You know Bruce is all about obnoxiously public displays of affection.”

Tim is about to step into the car when Bruce’s hand descends onto his shoulder, stopping him. If it was anyone other than Bruce, he would have called the touch unsure.

“Tim.” His voice is austere. There’s a long pause before he speaks again. “Is this okay?”

Tim smiles at him. “Yeah, Bruce. Of course.”    

 

_I’m trying to remind myself that I wanted this, once._


End file.
